


Inflection

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-21
Updated: 2003-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Josh thinks.





	Inflection

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Inflection**

**by:** Baked Goldfish

**Character(s):** Josh  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Sam, Josh/Amy  
**Category(s):** Angst  
**Rating:** Barely PG  
**Disclaimer:** They're Sorkin's, not mine. No money being made. Please don't sue.  
**Archive:** Sure. Let me know.  
**Summary:** "And Josh heard." Written for the Writing Sound challenge (http://sound.gatefiction.com)  
**Spoiler:** Anything through S4 is fair game.  
**Author's Note:** Josh POV, a touch of Josh/Sam, a moment of Josh/Amy, a perception of Sam/Will. Angstish. 

"I miss you," Sam said, and Josh heard: the whoosh and gentle thud of Sam's boxers hitting his bathroom floor. The way Sam sipped his coffee. The way he cleared his throat when he wasn't thinking about it. Sam's car pulling into the driveway of his mother's house. Sam's sudden laughter when he touched Sam's bare hipbone in the middle of the night. The clarity and faint distance in Sam's voice as he told him, I met a girl her name is Lisa I like her Josh. He heard: himself saying goodbye by using as many curses as he knew. 

"He left his glasses with the briefing book," Charlie said, and Josh heard growing up too fast. Himself, but without the money. His first job as an intern to a major politician, with the yelling and demands and pounding heartbeat in his ears. Gunshots, twice in a young man's life. Gunshots, twice too many times. He heard: a set of carving knives made by Paul Revere slicing into a perfectly cooked turkey. Nervous laughter growing less nervous over the years. Himself, without the money, and maybe better for it. 

"I had woot canaw," CJ said, and Josh heard: every press briefing she'd ever given, and the subtle way she flirted with the press corps every now and then. Every moment of perceived weakness or sadness smeared over with sharp sarcasm. Every rant that softened into a lesson. He heard: fire in her eyes, steel in her voice. Every gracefully broken sigh she made before conjuring up that strong store of power to present a particularly nasty news item in a competent, smooth and safe way. Every shaking breath she kept inside her locked office. Every lie he's ever made her say. Every lie he's ever told her. Every truth she'd never believe, or never want to. 

"Gather ye rosebuds," Donna said, and Josh heard: Joanie. A flute playing the Ave Maria. Grace. The strength to walk away from a nothing existence, be drawn back into that existence, and walk away one last time. Glass, breaking. The rip of gauze being cut and taped onto his hand as she rested her fingers on his forearm. Blood in his ears intermingled with the brush of her voice. He heard: music, as music. 

"I got a job, you got a job," Leo said, and Josh heard: off-key singing of old crude Air Force jodies. Calm explanation of political terms his own father hadn't known. Laughter. Choked back tears at Joanie's funeral, and a voice kept steady for everyone else's benefit. He heard: love for the real thing. Devotion. Excitement. The detachment in his voice when he told Josh to go to Noah's funeral alone because he had to run the election, and the click of his office door, and the hoarse tears he'd thought nobody else could hear. His father.  
  

"I'll be here when you're finished," Toby said, and Josh heard: every good speech ever given by an unworthy candidate. Words, as paintings. Words, as sculptures. Praise hidden inside insults. Rubber balls hitting drywall and carpeting. The snitching sound of lighter flint being struck. A nicer car than his with an engine that didn't knock pulling up in a better parking space, and a voice lying to the rest of the world, telling them Josh's car is much better than his simply because he's got that morose and downtrodden image to uphold. He heard: you're about to be kicked in the teeth buddy I'll be here with the scotch. And a heartbeat-muffled yell for a doctor. 

"Yeah, and I'm gonna win," Bartlet said, and Josh heard: glass falling in the Oval Office. Applause. The snap of the cameras. The real thing. Air Force One, deafening him. The words dwindle, dwarf, and dwell. Chili with an overload of spices popping and gurgling for too long on the stove. The lie. The truth. The reason. 

"I miss you," Amy said, and Josh heard: Nails against a chalkboard. Nails against the skin on his back. The way the mattress sighs when she gets up in the morning. Coffee percolating and sounding almost domestic. Aggravation in her fingers tapping against the wall. The plop of a cell phone in stew. The silence from the rest of the world that effuses him whenever she smiles at him. The way his breath catches in his throat when she chews on her bottom lip and doesn't realize he's looking. His name, breathed. He heard: I met a girl her name is Amy I like her Sam. 

[-----] 

The phone rang. He picked it up. "Hey, it's me, I got a couple questions," Will Bailey said, and Josh heard: Italian shoes tapping against the airport floor, fading into the noise of the crowd. The Pacific. Crackling of long-distance cell phone calls. The first time Sam laughed at one of his jokes. The last time Sam cried with him. A rainstorm, keeping voters away from the polls, and drumming a tribal beat against the blacktop like horses at the racetrack. Will's voice, irrational, imagined, taunting, Sam is here and you are not. 

He heard: one of many missed goodbyes, and the void. 

-end- 


End file.
